camp fear and flight [✧] intro

[shrewpounce]

i took the long way home ⋆⁺₊⋆
Dreams never used to scare him. Never used to startle him from his nest like a thunderclap, or shake him like a reed in the wind. His nerves never used to be torn to shred by fox claws and gnashing canines, but how long had it been? It was a hard question to answer when his mind always raced like a ferocious river, quick and ugly. The details of the night were the rapids pulling him under, no bank to cling to as he struggled to keep his head above the water. It was funny really, or at least he had thought so - always the most mundane days met with the most monstrous nights. He wondered why, but always had the same answer. Unfortunately he did not like the solution, dropped into his paws like the mouse he had plucked from the freshkill pile. It was one he had caught the previous day; lazy and sluggish. He could not think of a better breakfast.
He also could not think of the last time he ate with company. He was always awake bright and early, watching his clanmates wake up from presumably better dreams, and combatting that same feeling he had every morning. Maybe today was the day he shook it quicker like he hoped for every yesterday. Like a stepped-in puddle struggling to fix it's reflection, or a bird regaining its poise on a shaking branch. Unbearably present, and only time could remedy and make it all perfect again. He knew it would eventually leave his nerves, and fall to the wayside. He had long accepted it would fade well into the afternoon. For now all he could do was eat in silence.
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[SHARPSHADOW]

Sharpshadow emerges from the warrior's den not far behind Shrewpounce. The sky is about as dreary as it could get with the dual - disadvantage of Leaf - bare and the gloom near - permanently tinging ShadowClan's skies. Shrewpounce himself looked no less dreary; with prickled fur and a sunken face. A rough night, maybe, but it couldn't be any rougher than anyone else's here, he thinks.

Sharpshadow's own relationship with sleep wasn't a very consistant one.. A clan about in both the first glints of day and the dead of night was less likely to have some designated time to sleep. It wasn't as if Smogmaw would call them for patrols at moonhigh, but if you slipped from your den and there were others about, it wasn't so much of a strange thing. Sharpshadow often tried to wake early. HIs first mentor had told him that was a good thing. But then, he felt more at home, when no one could see him.

His own maw parts in a yawn as he stumbles into the clearing. A broken tail sags in the mix of mud and snowmelt. Charming as ever, ShadowClan.

He didn't wake up with the intent to talk to the other warrior, or anything. Shrewpounce wasn't that important, nor was Sharpshadow important enough to ever need to seek out someone that wasn't his harpy of an apprentice. But his head swings toward him, and he guesses being tired makes him care less about saying certain things. " You look pretty terrible, " she says, sleep too thick in her voice for it to really sound that mean. Maybe... a real lead warrior wouldn't deal with that, though. " I mean... Y'look like you need company. "

She says this, and yet she keeps standing still. She didn't have enough of an ego to volunteer herself to be said company. Who would want that? He drags a paw over his face. " Could be both, I guess. "

with myself i must play in this game of charades ( ♱ ) cause there's no one to speak to

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  SHARPSHADOW: he / she , no pref , dislikes gender neutral language ; fine with gendered terms ; 20 moons old as of 2.13.24 ; ages every 8th
  

  dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between chimera halves. Burdened with a broken tail, often lying dead behind her in the dirt.

  Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharpshadow has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  heavy ic opinions! he's irrational and mean </3

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[Hawkstride]

Hawk also tended to be an early riser, though he attributed that trait more to his former lifestyle as a loner than anything else. When you're out there on your own, if you didn't wake before the prey, you likely wouldn't eat. The black smoke tomcat was lingering on his own in a shadowy corner of the camp, grooming his ears with a large paw as he contemplated the last few days. He'd been given a warrior name, two full moons after joining Shadowclan - a true name, one that he had earned. Hawkstride. It felt right. This might not have been the life he'd ever imagined for himself, but it was turning out to be a good one nonetheless, and he knew his mother would be proud. The thought warmed him, and his mossy gaze flitted about the empty clearing to land on a pair of warriors conversing nearby. He knew he needed to do better with socializing outside of his family, and make lasting connections in this new home of his. This could be a good opportunity to do just that.

The dark feline rose gracefully to his paws and wandered over to the fresh-kill pile, grabbing a rather plump-looking mouse before veering towards Sharpshadow and Shrewpounce. He offered the both of them a cool smile around the rodent in his jaws, taking a seat a few mouse lengths away from the brooding warrior and curling his fluffy tail around his paws. He placed his meal onto the hard earth in front of him, ears twitching with vague amusement at their newest lead warrior's sleepily muttered words. "I'm sure the company would help," he murmured gently, his eyes lingering on Shrewpounce searchingly before they flickered to Sharpshadow. Hawk didn't know him very well, but found him to be oddly intriguing in a way he wanted to explore more. "Would you like to share this with me?" he offered Sharpshadow with a gesture to the mouse at his paws. His attention remained discreetly locked on Shrewpounce, though he decided not to ask him what was wrong. The tom would likely share when he was ready.

 

[ONYXPAW]

I WISH YOU COULD SEE THE WICKED TRUTH — Unlike the others that were already present so far, Onyxpaw was the total opposite of an early riser. Her sleep schedule always tended to drift towards later in the day, getting training with Avocetfall done before she spent the rest of the night as essentially her own personal time. She didn't keep track of when exactly she often went to sleep, but she did know that it was usually well into the night with the moon shining brightly up in the sky. Most days, by the time she woke up, the sun was snuggly tucked away in the middle of the sky, often hidden behind the towering trees and clouds that plagued Shadowclan's territory the majority of the time. The apprentice had never minded her own schedule, even if Avocetfall wasn't as fond of having to forcibly rouse her from her nest when they had training to do.

Today wasn't, unfortunately for her, one of those standard days.

The fluffy chimera wasn't sure what it was that roused her so early from her slumber, but she did know that she wasn't fond of it. Her blue gaze was full of annoyance as she pushed herself up from her nest, shaking out her pelt and almost stumbling onto her face from the exhaustion that was dragging at her entire form. Although the source of Onyxpaw's fatigue was different from both Shrewpounce and Sharpshadow, she looked no better than either of the older warriors. At least she could still hold her tail up high through her weariness, a luxury that Sharpshadow didn't exactly have - she couldn't help but wonder how he coped with it, the marshes unforgiving on anything that dragged through the wet and icy sludge of Leafbare.

Though the thought of going up to three fully grown warriors caused her heart to leap up into her throat, they seemed like the most interesting group that was gathered around so early in the day. Not that there were a lot of options at the moment with the sun barely creeping up over the horizon. "I... I wasn't sure I'd see any other clanmates up at this hour. Usually I try to sleep in longer." Her speckled paws shifted anxiously in front of her, claws churning up dirt as she tried to come up with any worthwhile conversation. How did this come so naturally to others? "At least maybe the prey is just as tired as everybody else this early?" Maybe she'd actually be able to catch something when the prey was all tired and sluggish, even if she doubted such a catch would be particularly impressive. Avocetfall would just be glad it was anything.

CAUGHT UP IN A RUSH ✦ IT IS KILLING YOU

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  ✧ shorthaired tortoiseshell point and chocolate point chimera with blue eyes
  ✧ 5 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ✧ bisexual; crushing on yellowpaw
  ✧ daughter of monarchroot and sleetjaw
  ✧ shadowclan born; silently loyal to her home
  ✧ difficult to befriend; shy to most except yellowpaw
  ✧ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed

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[shrewpounce]

i took the long way home ⋆⁺₊⋆
Shrewpounce's ears perked towards Sharpshadow, face not turned. He could feel that same, nagging creature that lives in the depths of his gullet. The one that nibbled at his nerves, and wormed his way into his throat. He swallowed. It did not leave.
"Do I?" He weakly mused, finally allowing his gaze to land on his clanmate. Shrew briefly wondered if he could even hear him. He never had much luck shaking off that mumble of his. A lead warrior followed next, affirming that Shrew would not spend his morning alone.
"Company never hurt anyone." A flurry of thoughts swept behind his eyes, all telling him he should crawl back into his accursed nest to hide from embarrassing himself with his poor conversational skills. He knew this was good for him, getting back out there and being prodded out of his shell... But why did it have to be so hard? Maybe he was wrong, maybe company did hurt.
"I'm usually awake about this time," Shrewpounce had regarded the apprentice, but finally allowed his eyes to fall back to his breakfast. The mouse half eaten, but Shrew's appetite had fizzled away. He continued to eat. Nothing went to waste.

​

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[smogstar]

The tethers binding the marsh cats together are weak and disjointed, not to mention too thinly spread and scattered about to form a cohesive or durable whole. There are common threads amongst them, yes, and undoubtedly the strongest one that intertwines ShadowClan in solidarity is a shared proclivity for insomnia and all of its accompanying conditions. For only a brief interlude in Smogmaw's life could he sleep easily and uninterrupted: a short-lived time where his nest was graced by a she-cat whom he held dear, and true to the clan's unforgiving nature, she (and sound slumber) had gotten unceremoniously erased and reduced to memory.

He misses Halfshade. He misses her warm flank pressed against his, her dulcet purr and how it was his lullaby, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him, and how she carried a special, sympathetic scent in his presence. He does not allow her absence to keep him up at night, though. ShadowClan did not give him any time to mourn her passing, and in a strangely fortuitous manner, the weight of her loss was lessened. Such is how he perceives it, at least. No, it is neither the spectre of past regrets nor the empty space where his mate should lay that keeps him awake.

It is a simple reason, really; his mind simply does not stop in its relentless churn. He cannot put a cork in his thinking, and nor does he need to. Moreover, he has found less sleep mentally stimulating, keeping him on his paws in a way no herb could replicate. The tom commences his day when others withdraw from the den, and this dim, somber morning is no different.

Ashen-furred cheeks part the bush's brambly confines and herald his coming. A yawn exposes yellowed fangs as he paces forward from the entrance, stretching with a grumble and a crack and a pop. When his line of sight recalibrates, he is greeted with a wholly unordinary sight, that being a clanmate congregation in a certain nook of camp. Though it isn't so rare to see his peers out and about at this hour, watching a group willingly converse at this time is an anomaly. Sweet.

"You'll find yourself used to it, Onyxpaw," says the tabby on his approach, having caught the chimera's remark as soon as he entered earshot. His focus waxes to his former apprentice, wanes to the tom whom he'd supervised for several moons, before stopping once and for all on the centrepiece to this discussion. Shrewpounce, whose words were few and frank. A soft huff punctuates Smogmaw's arrival. "You look terrible," he assesses then, echoing an earlier appraisal that fell deaf on his ears. "Not feeling sick, are you? I'd hate to have to excuse you from morning patrols."

Immediately, a micro-second after the quip turned into a cloud of breath, he looks towards the others present. They better not get any ideas. ​